


Mistaken

by Silent_So_Long



Series: otpprompts [50]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: M/M, Mistaken Identity, Mistakes, Sexual Content, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5454359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard, Paul and a case of mistaken identity</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistaken

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt left upon tumblr's ottprompts (this is one of many, many prompts/fills I had saved to my hard drive before my departure from tumblr.) 
> 
>  
> 
> [Imagine Person A of your OTP up in the middle of the night (whether it be insomnia, jet lag, or messed up sleep schedule) making food. Person B wakes up to the sound of Person A, believing that there’s a intruder in the house so they grab the closest thing to them, a hairbrush. Person B manages to fumble their way down to the kitchen and find person A, making food. Due to being half asleep, Person B thinks that Person A is the intruder in their home and hits Person A on the head with their hairbrush. Person B then realises that they just hit Person A on the head with their hairbrush and apologises non stop.](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/133717562333/imagine-person-a-of-your-otp-up-in-the-middle-of)

The night was cold, and felt almost wetly frozen against Richard's skin with every movement that he made; he snuggled further beneath the duvets, and tucked his knees further towards his chest. He was glad that Paul had insisted on piling an extra two duvets upon the bed before they'd climbed into it an hour before, despite the fact that Richard himself had scoffed at the suggestion at the time. 

Beside him, Paul slept, breathing slow and deep and even, the warm huff of it blasting occasionally against the curve of the back of Richard's neck. Richard felt a surge of impatience at that; he wondered why his lover could sleep when Richard himself found sleep hard to attain. He shifted uncomfortably, and turned over when his leg began to cramp, shoulder feeling odd and bulky against the sheets beneath him. He ended up facing Paul, and watched as the other man slept, features barely visible in the dim glow that filtered in through the partially open bedroom door. They always kept the bathroom light on during the night, to make it easier to find, if either of them needed to relieve themselves whilst the other slept on. 

Paul's face looked more gentle whilst asleep, lower lip jutting out further than it usually did whilst the other man was awake; Richard wondered then what the other man was dreaming to make him pout so. He almost laughed at that, yet kept the laughter inside for fear of waking his partner up. Just because he was awake, didn't mean to say that Paul had to be. Paul mumbled something incoherent, wriggling against Richard slightly before the other man turned his back upon Richard. Richard felt a little cheated then, of watching Paul whilst he slept, and admiring the gentle lines of his lover's face whilst relaxed. 

He sighed and sat up, swung his legs out from beneath the covers and hissed when the bare soles of his feet came into contact with the cold floor. He rooted around with grasping toes before he found the soft and fuzzy comfort of his slippers, and he pushed his feet gratefully inside them. Whilst the material was still chill against the bare skin of his feet, the coldness of the slippers was nothing in comparison to the sheer ice rink that was the floor. 

Richard stood, careful not to disrupt the bed too much with his movement, before he turned to check whether Paul had been disturbed; the other man slept on, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Richard was now out of bed. Richard sighed and made his way to the door, easing it open further quietly before passing through the gap left behind; he closed the door back to its former partially open state, and padded to the kitchen, just down the hallway. He snapped on the light, wincing as the brightness flooded the room and his eyes with an incredible brightness, that blinded him. He waited for his eyes to adjust, before he began to move, more confidently now that he wouldn't start crashing into things and wake up Paul; Richard had sudden visions of startling the other man awake. Undoubtedly, Paul would think there was a burglar in the flat. 

Richard began to make himself a sandwich, reasoning that the food would help him to sleep; whenever a case of insomnia prevented him from resting properly, he'd long since discovered that a quick and comforting snack often relaxed him enough to be able to slip into sleep once he'd returned to bed. He piled feta cheese, and onions, and some spinach leaves inside heavily buttered bread; Richard shook on some salt and pepper for extra seasoning and wondered if perhaps he should make a sandwich for Paul as well, in case the other man awoke. It was as he was still deciding what to do when he heard a noise behind him ...

*****

Paul slowly drifted out of sleep, mind and eyes still foggy with the rime of his dreams clinging to him. He yawned and tried to settle back into sleep again; the dream he'd been having had been a particularly nice one. It involved staying with Richard in an isolated cabin with nothing but the mountains and a herd of mountain ponies for company. A fire had been crackling in the grate and they'd been toasting bread upon the open flames, enjoying the warm and crispy, heavily buttered treat when the bread was finally cooked.

Paul yawned again, frustrated that he hadn't been able to slip straight to sleep again, and back into the folded arms of a wonderful dream like he'd wanted. A sudden scraping sound from the kitchen jerked Paul into full wakefulness; his eyes flew open and stared blindly into the dimly lit expanse of the bedroom. The noise came again, almost sounding like the drag of a plate being eased out of the cupboard. Paul's first thought was that they had a burglar in the kitchen, stealing all of their crockery and a sudden late-night ire overcame him. Without thinking, he grabbed the first thing that he could reach upon the bedside cabinet, before bolting out of bed. He was already halfway across the room, almost to the door, before he even thought to check upon the thing that he'd grabbed; it turned out to be a hairbrush that Richard sometimes used when his hair was being particularly rebellious and flat. 

Paul cursed, yet knew that he didn't have the time to change weapons; he knew that the burglar was already getting away with the majority of their crockery, some of which Paul suspected was probably antique, and worth a lot of money. He padded quickly through the door, only then lamenting the fact that he hadn't thought to wake Richard up for back-up; he knew again that he didnt have the time to go back for Richard either. He knew that he would have to play the hero alone. 

Paul continued into the kitchen and padded across the floor, hand held high, brush soon arcing through the air and lancing off the back of the intruder's head, before Paul even realised that that the so-called burglar was actually Richard with a sandwich in his hand. 

"Paul!" Richard shouted, in horror, as he rubbed at his head wth his free hand." What the hell do you think you're doing? Why did you just hit me with my hairbrush?"

Paul blinked a little stupidly at Richard for a few moments, embarrassed horror momentarily robbing him of speech. His cheeks bgean to blaze a little beneath the weight of Richard's continued outraged stare.

"Sorry," Paul began. "I thought you were a burglar. I heard noises." 

"I was making a bloody sandwich, you twat," Richard said, as he held out the offending item in front of Paul. "I'm not a burglar."

"I know that now, don't I? Twat yourself, by the way," Paul said, with a frown. "I apologised, didn't I? It's not like I specifically meant to hit you with a hairbrush." 

"Bloody hell Paul; I'd hate to get on the wrong side of you. That really did hurt, actually," Richard said, as he rubbed at his head again.

"I am sorry," Paul said, and he couldn't stop the fresh twinge of guilt from rippling its way through his body. 

"So you said," Richard said, before a sudden devious light filtered into his eyes. "You could kiss it better." 

Paul grunted and tried to look put-upon, but Richard's sudden hopeful grin proved too infectious. Paul grinned back, which turned into a laugh, which then progressed into a kiss being pecked against Richard's mouth by way of apology.

"Is that the best you can do? You can do better than that; I know you can," Richard said. 

"I am a very good kisser, yes," Paul said, with a sudden laugh. 

"You are also a smart arse," Richard laughingly observed, but he didn't get the chance to speak further, before Paul kissed him properly. 

Once the kiss had ended, Paul skilfully eased the sandwich from Richard's hand and took a huge bite of it, chewing thoughtfully whilst Richard made a noise of sharp protest over the theft of his snack.

"Now who's the burglar, Paulchen? That was my sandwich," Richard objected. "I was just in the middle of making you one, when I got attacked by a hairbrish wielding lunatic." 

"Not so much of the lunatic," Paul objected, mildly, from around his cheesy mouthful. "And you can have my sandwich, can't you? You were making it, after all."

Richard grunted and turned away, hands soon returning to their self appointed task of assembling another, identical sandwich to the first. Paul grabbed the plate upon which the other half of the sandwich, originally intended for Richard, sat, and settled at the table, to eat the remainder of it. Richard barely suppressed a smile, as sounds of muffled enjoyment suddenly broke out behind him.

"Good, is it?" he asked, a little sarcastically, as he settled across from Paul.

"Yeah," Paul confirmed, eyes half closed with his pleasure, as he continued to eat. 

Richard smiled and bit into his own sandwich, discovering that Paul was right and that the sandwich was delicious. They ate in silence then, before Paul finished first, pushing his plate away from him in sated satisfaction.

"Any chance of a coffee with that sandwich, Reesh?" he asked, with a typically broad grin at the other man.

"You can make it yourself, you cheeky bastard," Richard said, barely managing to hide his smile behind the shield of his half eaten sandwich. "I made the sandwich."

Paul snorted but stood without further protest. He returned with two freshly brewed cups of coffee, which the couple enjoyed as silently as they had the sandwiches. Paul watched Richard from across the table, and thought silently to himself as to how tired Richard looked, eyes drooping significantly since they'd been sitting at table. Paul sighed once the coffees were consumed, before he extended one hand towards his lover.

"C'mon, Reesh; lets get to bed," he said. "You're tired, now. The washing up can wait until the morning."

Richard merely ndded, yawn splitting his face, before he stood and began following Paul across the room, slippers making shushing sounds against the tiles as he shuffled sleepily across them. Paul waited by the doorway, and waited until Richard had passed him, before snapping the light off. They returned to the bedroom, where they slid beneath the covers once more. Richard held his arms out to Paul once he was settled, in a silent plea for the other man to snuggle with him; Paul chuckled and settled against his lover, exchanging soft kisses until he felt sleep claiming them both, at last.

****

Paul awoke in the morning, eyes drifting open as the rays of the sun filtered through the gaps around the curtains. He stretched languidly, feet brushing up against the still sleeping Richard beside him with every movement. He huddled back down beneath the covers once his stretch had finished and turned to face his lover, smiling at the way that Richard's face went pouchy whilst sleeping. Paul yawned, and closed his eyes for a while, mindful of perhaps being accused of acting like a voyeur, should Richard awake beneath Paul's continued affectionate gaze. Paul yawned again, eyes still shuttered closed, as he waited for his lover to wake.

Richard didn't wake up for another five minutes, body quickening with his wakefulness, accompaneied by a short, sharp burst of noise as he yanwed. Paul drifted awake from his light doze, and smiled when he found that Richard was watching him from beneath sleepy eyelids.

"Morning," Paul murmured, as Richard reahced out to take his hand, to press small chuffing kisses against his fingertips.

"Morning," Richard murmured, even as he transferred his lips to the inside of Paul's wrist. 

Paul shuddered beneath the tickling press of Richard's mouth trailing kisses up his arm, breath deepening with every movement bringing his lover closer to him; he could feel Richard's very obvious arousal pressed hard against his thigh and he moved closer, rubbed against Richard's erection hard enough to produce a long, low moan from Richard's mouth.

"Sorry for attacking you last night," Paul murmured, as Richard's mouth attached itself to his neck, to suck bruises against his flesh.

"'s okay," Richard murmured, obviously too distracted by Paul's willingly pliant body to care any more. 

Paul moaned, one hand rising to rest against the back of his lover's head, when Richard pressed his hand between Paul's legs; Richard rubbed and Paul, already partially hard, stiffened still further beneath his lover's palm. They didn't speak again; instead, they let their hands do their talking for them, speaking with caresses, and kisses, and gentle hugs exchanged beneath the sheets. They still didn't speak, even when they slowly stripped each other, until their bodies were revealed, naked and warm and excited against each other.

Paul eased onto his stomach, abdomen supported by soft pillows and was soon rewarded by the feel of Richard's lube-slick hand at his entrance, gently preparing him for all that was to come. He was patient and he was quiet, up until Richard laid atop him, to guide himself inside Paul; Paul's soft moans grew louder, longer, more aroused and pleasured as Richard began to thrust into him, every movement, every kiss, every caress tender and loving and designed to make Paul feel as good as Richard obviously did. Paul rocked back into Richard's heat every time that his lover drew away, wanting to prolong teh contact for as long as he could, eager for Richard to remain inside him for as long as possible; in time, however, even that had to come to an end, contact washed away when Richard's orgasm hit and he released hard inside Paul with loud cries of Paul's name, hands clenched tightly upon Paul's hips. Paul took it all, claimed it for his own and returned it, hand stroking at himself through his own orgasm, moans soon turning into a long, loud cry of his lover's name, stifled by pillows.

Richard eased away, yet he didn't move far; Paul closed the distance between them again, minimal hough it was, to snuggle contentedly with his lover. Richard smiled, and brushed fingers through Paul's hair, yet he didn't speak. He didn't have to; Paul knew how much he was loved and he returned it, with every kiss he bestowed upon Richard's softly waiting mouth.


End file.
